


Wasted on You

by meirencollector



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Needs Help, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Has a Crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Declarations Of Love, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Idiots in Love, Romantic Comedy, they are so in love therefore this clownery had to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meirencollector/pseuds/meirencollector
Summary: "And him? What's the other boy's name?"She crossed her arms, staring at his glazed green eyes and unfurled golden hair that shone against the amber beams. "Adrien. His name is Adrien Agreste.""What a sucker," he drawled, taking a swig from the closest bottle. "Not only did he steal you from me. He even stole my name!"
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 22
Kudos: 273





	Wasted on You

Each drink downed made the idea seem better and better. He knew he was going to suffer when he woke up tomorrow, but he really wouldn’t mind, if things right now could last forever. The morning can cap it for all he cares.

The puns in his head were getting funnier, the image of becoming a comedian of epic proportions more possible than ever. He could finally do this, could say it out loud. And so he fixed his shirt a little straighter, and pushed his chest out a little further. A hand ruffled through his hair in a hopeful attempt to catch her attention, praying that she had a type for blondes. But the hand stopped midway as she turned and met his stare — and his world spun more than ever before.

And he wasn’t sure if it was the intoxication that hit him, but one thing’s for certain: never had it tasted so sweet.

“Careful there,” he heard a soft voice in front of him and his heart skipped a beat. With all focus afforded by his drunken mind, it turned out to be from the one who had been causing it the entire night. “We can’t have you falling on just _anyone_ , can we?”

She held him steady, and he believed that there was no better place to fall than into her arms, no other place to drown than in her eyes. 

They shone like stars, but unlike his own, they weren’t glazed over and muddled with drink, so he tried to compose himself, tried to come up with something smart and interesting, _something that will blow her away and make her like you_ , he thought, as he racked his brain.

“Hello,” he cleared his throat, standing a bit straighter. _So far so good. Think of something nice and smart. A good and lasting impression_. He’s definitely got this. “I love you.”

He’s never seen cheeks bloom into such a deep shade of rose red. And definitely, the color has never looked better on anyone else.

But then it sunk into him, along with the realization that his brain-to-mouth filter was terrible and apparently non-existent at the moment, and he thought he had to save himself before things got even worse.

“Wait! No… please-” he waved his hands in panic, hoping she hadn't struck him out as deranged. Yet. “That came out wrong, I didn’t mean to say that- I mean, I did mean that I lo—” His eyes widened in horror, unable to stop the nonsense coming out of his mouth.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she shook her head as she giggled. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” the pretty girl said, tacking on a playful wink at the end.

His heart almost burst out of his chest. “Please tell me you’re single.”

The girl in front of him seemed surprised with the question but smiled after, as though she found his question amusing. _Purrfect, she now thinks I’m funny._

“Nope.” she answered, popping the ‘p’, and he wondered how could this beautiful lady be so happy about the fact that she just broke his heart with a single word.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but the emotions that had quickly built up in his throat burst out, and it took less than five seconds before the first tear dropped, and followed by another, and another, until he was just straight up crying.

It was so unfair, and he doesn’t know why it hurt so much to hear that the lady who he was so sure was the love of his life was already taken by someone else who was _not_ him. 

But the lady, like the angel she was, looked stricken when she saw him cry. And in an instant, she folded him into her embrace.

She hugged him close but he fought hard to pull away — admittedly, a bit weakly and not even trying at all — and his mind whirred as he buried himself in her dark hair, its scent the best thing he's ever smelled: like rain and home.

Sniffling back his sobs, he says, "You say you're taken but here you are, hugging me in your arms. Mhmm, feels nice and comfy. I think I belong here."

He heard her chuckle, and a hand wove gently into his hair. "My boyfriend thinks he belongs here too."

The sensation was so warm and familiar, and his legs no longer had the strength to move away.

“Can you break up with your boyfriend for me?” he quietly said, leaning further into her soft touch.

“I can’t, I love him. I love him very much.” Then caressing him, she added, "And I think he loves me just as much too."

At that, he whimpered, breaking away from her. She furrowed her eyebrows in response, and oh, he was sure, so sure that her bluebell eyes were going to fill his dreams for the rest of his life. "Tell me your name."

She eyed him expectantly, and her gaze took his breath away. "Marinette. It's Marinette Dupain-Cheng." 

"Marinette," he breathed out the name, and spoke it like a prayer. It stirred something in him and suddenly he felt more drunk than he had been ever before. Intoxication came and went, and it could be found through fantasy and thirst if that was the shallow thing sought. But he knew the intoxication he tasted in this moment came with passion, the kind that lasts, the kind that is forever and sweet.

And if he would let it slip away, he was no better than a drunken fool.

"And _him_? What's the other boy's name?" 

Marinette crossed her arms, staring at his glazed green eyes and unfurled golden hair that shone against the amber beams. "Adrien. His name is Adrien Agreste."

"What a sucker," he drawled, taking a swig from the closest bottle. "Not only did he steal you from me. He even stole my name!"

Marinette snorted, and took his hand off the drink. “Okay, that’s it, let’s go.”

Adrien let himself get pulled by her, “Where are we going?” he asked, but it really didn’t matter, because he’d follow her anywhere she would go.

“Home.”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. “You know Marinette, I’m not the one night stand type of guy,” he giggled, with a hiccup in between. “I’m like a stray cat, if you take me in once, I’m probably not ever going to leave.”

“How convenient,” she quipped, while they waded out of the bar. “My boyfriend likes strays. Every week I have to talk him out of adopting one because there’s no room.”

“Oh, he sounds nice,” he muttered in agreement and then skidded to a pause. “I still don’t like him though.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “We really need to get you sober.”

“And we really need to get _you_ to start considering your options,” he countered, holding her hand tighter as they strolled through the midnight city streets. It was late and a bit dark, but the moonbeams came as runways in the starry night, like bright pathways for dreams to take flight.

“My options?” she chuckled. “I honestly think there’s no one else better.”

“Really? What if I told you I’d give you roses every day and drop by your house every night?”

“Mmm. Adrien’s given me roses ever since we were fourteen, and he would visit my balcony by night back then.”

“Back then? Pfft. Sounds like a true casanova, they lose out in the long run.”

“These days though,” she added, “Adrien never fails to kiss me good night.”

The blond let out an exasperated sigh. “Adrien, Adrien, Adrien. All the girls are fighting over him. No one's fighting over me. Yet I'm probably so much more sophisticated, funny, and definitely better dressed than him.”

The laughter that came out of her mouth rang golden and sweet, and he believed he'd never heard of such a beautiful sound. “Adrien’s very sophisticated, mind you. He’s a model to boot. And,” suddenly pulling him down to whisper in his ear, “I think his puns are the funniest thing in the world.”

He doesn’t understand how it was possible that he could fall even deeper for her. But impossible or not, he does, and it's like a bottomless pit, like the love that was pulling him further in.

“Don’t tell him that though,” she crooned. “He’ll probably never shut up about it once he finds out.” She laced her hand tightly with his. “Promise me, kitty?”

And he too, held it tighter, a promise to never let go. “As you wish, princess.”

While they walked through the dark, winding alley streets, Marinette kept humming a slow, familiar tune that made him want to dance under the night sky. In her serenade amidst the black; the moon and stars were a choir, singing as they shone. Sometimes the eyes need music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.

“We’re here.”

He barely noticed entering the building, or the long flight of stairs that led him to a door. 315. Interesting, his keys also had something like 315 written on them. _That just further proved Marinette and I are perfect for each other,_ he thought to himself. _Take that, Adrien Agreste._

“You’re talking out loud, Adrien,” she giggled. “How has it not sunk into you yet? And we’re even using your keys.”

He gasped. “How the hell do I have keys to your apartment? Have _I_ been here before? Wait. Are we seeing each other? No, hold on. Does Adrien know..?”

“Know what?”

“You know,” he gestured between the two of them, “Us!”

She shook her head, looking as if she was holding back a laugh. “The last time I checked, it seems like he has no idea.”

The door opens, and he’s greeted by the scent of her flooding his senses, with the occasional notes of sugar and camembert in between. The moonlight shone through the blinds, just enough to see a weathered couch, the wooden legs of a piano stool and the faint patterns of a washed up rug.

“Here,” he turned to see Marinette holding a glass, “drink some water.”

He took a deep gulp, offering his thanks. “You have a nice place. It really… it really feels like a home.”

Marinette giggled once again and she led him to the couch. “Still out of it, huh? Why don’t you take a nap?”

He almost took a step towards her, when he suddenly stopped, shaking his head. “Wait, but where’s your boyfriend,” he questioned, face turning angry. “How is he not even here? At this late? At this hour? That sucker—”

“Adrien, _minou_ , come here,” she called, unable to keep the ruse any longer. “You’re my boyfriend, remember?”

“Really? I am?” he blinked, coming closer. “No way. I can’t be that lucky.”

She tugged him down to her side, and she caressed his hand, tracing the curves of the ring on his finger. “That’s something that I’m supposed to say.”

His expression turned pensive, then he brought up her left hand, staring at it intently, then after a while, he let out a breath of relief.

She tilted her head. “What were you doing?”

“Just checking your hand.”

“Huh? Why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re either pulling my leg or this is a dream, because I still can’t believe you’re my girlfriend, you’re just too… good to be true. But in any case, I’m just checking. And it looks like I still have a chance.”

She stared at him, puzzled. “A chance at what?”

“A chance to marry you, of course.”

Bluebell eyes turned like saucers, and Adrien, as inebriated as he was, took it all in stride, pressing his lips to her fingers, a kiss for each, and lasting one where a ring should be found. 

“You can have that name-stealer of a boy for now,” he declared, his tone full of conviction. “But in the end, on a very special day, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’ll be the one asking if you’ll have me.”

She took a deep breath. “Do you mean it, kitty?”

“I do. And I’m going to beat Adrien Agreste to it!” he laughed haughtily, rambling on. “What a sucker. If it was me, I’d have already planned to marry you the day we first met. And once I had worked hard with my own two hands and saved enough money, I would buy the best ring, the perfect ring for my princess. Then I would hide it in a box inside the piano stool with my physics books so you would never see! Brilliant plan, don’t you think, m’lady?”

Marinette’s eyes flitted to the piano stool for a second, and then shook her head in disbelief. She caressed his face, drawing near to leave trails of kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, each one carrying her endearment. “Adrien Agreste, I’m not sure if I should strangle you or kiss you senseless instead.” 

“Mmm,” he savored the kiss, breathing her in. “You can strangle the other Adrien? And give the senseless kisses to me.”

Her warm lips traced his jaw before she leaned away, uncaring of Adrien’s disappointed hiss. “I sure hope you remember this in the morning.”

“I might, depending how long you can keep me up,” he laughed, voice lilting in a challenge that she couldn’t do anything about other than to accept — so she did, fitting her mouth to his throat and hearing his laughter morph into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Dammit,” he murmured. “I might not really sleep.” Marinette only chuckled, tilting his chin down to peck his lips. It was so familiar, as if she’d done it more than a thousand times, and yet each kiss seemed so new, and it sunk in that he might just never get used to it. He felt her hold around his neck tighten and he let out a soft gasp, mouth parting enough for her to slip her tongue past his. His hands gripped the sides of the couch to no avail, the effort lost to keep himself ground while she just takes, takes and _takes_. And he realized that perhaps, he’s not the only one high and dry in the room.

Tomorrow, Sunday, Adrien will find out that he isn’t really a morning person, and it will take some time, but neither is Marinette, anyway. He’s just in it for her — well, her _everything_. From her breathy morning laugh down to her raspy, dry sounding whines, throat parched for a glass of water; the way her fingers trace down to his chest, and the feeling of her warming the small space between their skin, the soft kisses and touches against his body that quivers with sensitive aftershocks.

Adrien wouldn’t mind, if things right now could last forever. The morning can cap it for all he cares.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~i did say id write something dumb in 2k words last time~~  
>    
> this is actually part of a series of vaguely interconnected fics of adrien just having his bouts romantic crisis...but it still works as a standalone of course
> 
> happy valentines day!


End file.
